An Unofficial PatriotGardener, Helen H. (Helen Hamilton)
History
An Unofficial Patriot
Gardener, Helen H. (Helen Hamilton)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
To those whose traditions of ancestry all center about one locality, it
costs a fearful struggle to tear up root and branch and strike out
into unknown fields among people of a different type and class; with
dissimilar ideas and standards of action and belief. To such it is
almost like the threat or presence of death in the household. But to
voluntarily disrupt and leave behind all of that which has given color
and tone and substance to one's daily life, and at its meridian, to
begin anew the weaving of another fabric from unaccustomed threads on
a strange and unknown loom, to readjust one's self to a different
civilization--all this requires a heroism, a fidelity to conscience and,
withal, a confidence in one's own judgment and beliefs that surpass the
normal limit. But, if in addition to all this, the contemplated change
is to be made in pursuance of a moral conviction and will surely result
in financial loss and material discomfort, it would not be the part of
wisdom to ask nor to expect it of those who are less than heroic. In
order to compass his plans Mr. Davenport knew that it would be necessary
to dispose of his slaves. But how?
He hoped to take with him to his new home--although they would be freed
by the very act--several of the older ones and Jerry and his little
family. He knew that these would, by their faithful services, be a
comfort and support to his wife and of infinite use and advantage to
the children, whose love and confidence they had. To take all into his
employ in the new home would, of course, be impossible. He would no
longer have the estate of an esquire. At first, at least, he must live
in a small town. There would be no land to till and no income to so
support them. The house would no longer be the roomy mansion of a
planter. His income would be too meager to warrant the keeping of even
so many servants as they were planning to take--and there would be
little work for them to do. The others must be disposed of in some other
way. But how? They are yours, my friend, for the moment. How will you
dispose of them? What would you have done?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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